I look away, humiliated. “How about we get going now.”
There is a slight pause. “But you can read, can’t you?”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I thought that you knew that already!”
She gives me a nasty smile. “Oh, I must have forgotten.”
“What?” Uri exclaims. “I can’t read!”
“Then maybe you should’ve learned,” I retort, climbing up onto Majax’s back.
“Don’t you talk to me like that!” he snarls. “Even a pirate knows it’s death for a half-breed to know to read!”
I cringe as a painful old memory – one that I have kept locked away for years – breaks free and floods my mind.
His name was Kellagh and he was the only friend that I’ve ever had, as well as the only other half-breed I’ve ever met. I was ten at the time and he was thirteen. We were both slaves in the house of a very wealthy merchant who held great influence in the king of Zandelba’s court.
Kellagh and I got along really well, and in the few moments of stolen free time that we could get, we would cause all kinds of mischief. Our master threatened us with selling one or both of us on numerous occasions, but we knew he wouldn’t. Since half-breeds are so rare, even though we are hated, owning one reflects a high social status. So he would resort to having us beaten, which we both agreed was worth the trouble.
One night, Kellagh took me to our master’s library, and informed me that he taught himself to read in one of his previous master’s homes, and he was now perfecting that ability by filching some of our master’s books and reading them. He said that the books weren’t wanted anyways. Then he offered to teach me to read. I was already intrigued by the wonderful stories he’d been telling me, so I agreed. Over the next few weeks, he taught me by candlelight at night.
But one night, one of the maids caught us and dragged us before our master. Kellagh confessed to teaching me, and although I tried to claim my fair share of guilt, he took all the blame for the situation. The next morning, he was beaten to death right before my eyes. Even now, I can vividly remember his screams of anguish, his pleading tears, his face splattered with his own blood.
After they carried his limp body away from the stake, they beat me almost as bad. The next day, I was taken to the market again and sold to an unsuspecting master. Apparently, it is a disgrace to own a half-breed who can read, so I have had to continue to hide my knowledge ever since.
I stare at the leather straps of the reins in my hands, feeling sick again. “I have already paid the price,” I say quietly.
“What happened?” Uri taunts. “Did your master beat you? Is that how your face got so ugly?”
“Uri!” Bellator reprimands sharply, and for some reason, the malicious look in her eyes is subdued.
He rolls his eyes in irritation. “What?”
“Not another word or I’ll tie a stone to your feet and throw you in the lake!”
Uri shuts up.
Part Two
“The Prince”
Chapter Twenty-Three
D ust rose in the evening air as a carriage clattered up the front drive of the castle grounds. Six spoked wheels slowed as it pulled up before the cracked stone stairway, blocking the golden light of the setting sun from reaching the bed of flowers along the castle’s foundation. Petunias, violets, and daffodils flourished still even at the close of summer. Age wore at the face of the castle, yet it stood as iron, a testament to the centuries it had served the royal line of Valamette. And it would live on for centuries more.
I am home.
A smile broke out over the face of the new arrival as the carriage came to a full halt. He didn’t wait for the footman to dismount and open the door, but threw it open himself, stepping out onto the cobbled floor of the courtyard. He inhaled the sweet country air, filling his lungs to the brim, and savoured it.
“Are you well, sire?” the footman called from where he sat atop the carriage, holding the reins.
“Quite well, thank you,” the prince replied. “Long trip home?”
“Ah, nothing to worry about, your highness. The missus is expecting me not long after dark.” The footman glanced about, a bit of a crease in his brow. “Not much of a welcome party.”
“Oh, I’m not expected,” the prince replied with a grin. “Just leave my things on the steps. I’ll send someone out for them.”
“Very good, sire.”
The prince started toward the garden, taking the well known path around to a side door of the castle. Even when he was a child, he never used the front door. It seemed too pretentious. Besides, he’d rather slip in unnoticed and surprise everyone.
As he neared the garden, he heard the unfamiliar sound of music and laughter swelling from an open window. He frowned. No one ever came here.
Continuing toward an opening in the hedge, he scanned the windows for an explanation. A flicker of movement here, a flash of colour there. It seemed as if someone was throwing a dance.
That is peculiar. In all my time growing up here, no one has ever thrown—
Buried in his contemplation, he didn’t see the girl sitting just around the bend on the other side of the hedge until he tripped over her. The girl gasped, and the volume she was reading was knocked out of her hands. The prince barely caught himself from falling face first in the grass.
“My apologies,” he exclaimed, bending over to pick up the book. Dusting it off, he held it out to her.
The girl clambered to her feet, taking it from him. “No need to apologize,” she said quickly. “I should’ve known better than to sit by the walkway.”
“But I should have stayed on the path.”
She smiled, her lovely green eyes sparkling. There was an odd deepness to them, like a portal to a vast store of knowledge. The prince felt suddenly nervous and struck with a strange feeling of delight all at once. She was the first one to look away.
“I apologize, but it seems we haven’t met,” she said lightly, pulling a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “May I ask who you are?”
The prince straightened out his overcoat with an air of dignity. “Hamish, at your service,” he said with a bow. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Alarm registered on the girl’s face, and her cheeks blushed a dark pink. “H-Hamish,” she stammered. “As in the prince? They told me you were studying in Lavylli.”
“I am a quick study,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “There was nothing more I could learn at this time, so I returned home for the duration of the summer.”
A loud peal of laughter came from within the castle, and Hamish cast an uneasy glance in its direction. “It seems this place has been put to good use while I was away.”
“Uh, yes, it seems so,” she said, following his gaze. “Of course, I’m only here because my father said time in Valamette would be good for me, so your father agreed to take me along. I—”
Hamish’s brows furrowed. “The... the king is here?”
She slid a braid of grass between two pages of her book and closed it. “He’s come here for the past three summers. Didn’t you know?”
He shook his head. “He never comes here.”
“Well,” she cleared her throat, the rouge of her face only deepening, “you see, I only agreed to come because I thought it would be nice to finally meet you.”
“Me? Why would you want to meet me?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but just then, the door to the garden opened, and a crowd of nobles poured onto the lawn, ruddy from their dancing. They paired off, pink faced ladies leaning on their gentlemen’s arms, the noise of their chatter disturbing the spell of nature’s silence. The prince was quickly able to pick out the man he knew described his father; tall, handsome, golden. Hamish had not been able to picture him in his mind for some time now. A dainty woman as beautiful as a goddess leaned on the king’s arm, feeding him a piece of cake and cooing loudly.
The prince frowned.
“Ugh,” the girl s
cowled from beside him. “Algitha. What am I saying? Of course, you already know her.”
“No,” the prince said slowly. “Should I?”
The girl looked confused. “She’s your stepmother. She and your father were married last year. Didn’t you attend the wedding?”
Hamish scratched behind his ear. “Ah, no. I have been in Lavylli for three years.”
“But King Fendryl attended.”
Prince Hamish felt shame creeping in as his ears flushed, and his shoulders slouched in defeat. “I suppose I was not invited,” he admitted. “Father does not like it when I attend public occasions. He would rather I studied.”
The girl understood more than he was saying. “When was the last time you spoke to him?” she asked.
“I... I do not remember,” he stammered. “He... never comes to visit...”
A sudden determination grew in her eyes. “Well, we should fix that, don’t you think?” She put a hand on his arm. “Come. I’ll introduce you.”
Hamish planted his feet, shaking his head. “He is busy now. He will not want to see me.”
“Then shame on him,” she said. “But you should at least try.”
The prince sighed, giving in with a nod. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, and the two of them walked toward the stairway. The king didn’t notice them approach, and when he finally did see them, he looked from one to the other, his golden brows furrowed in confusion. Hamish could tell by the red of his nose that he’d had far too much to drink already. Yet even in this state, the smile left his face.
The girl gave Hamish’s arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Hello, father,” the prince said.
The king looked him up and down, setting down his glass of wine on the banister. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought you were supposed to be in Lavylli for another month.”
“They let me return early, father. They said there was nothing left to teach me.”
The king snorted. “You should’ve stayed the month. There’s always more knowledge to be had. A king would think of that.”
Hamish bowed his head. “I suppose so.”
“Oh, Leo honey, you said you’d show me the little fishies,” the woman on the king’s arm simpered.
“Yes, of course.” He started to leave, but hesitated, then patted Algitha’s hand. “You go on, love. I’ll be there in a moment.”
With a giggle, Algitha floated down the steps, waving a slender hand as she went.
The king glanced from Hamish to the girl. “I see you two have met, then.”
“Well, in a manner of speaking.” Hamish glanced to the girl, who looked back with those lovely, piercing green eyes. “I apologize. I did not catch your name.”
The embarrassed red returned to her cheeks. “It’s Marianna,” she said.
Hamish pulled away, shocked. “Marianna Jerousse?”
The king threw back his head and laughed. “Come now, boy. She’s only your fiancée. And pretty as a doll, if you ask me.”
Marianna smiled apologetically. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Hamish.”
“Likewise,” Hamish replied, a bit too formally. He took another step back. “Well then. I think I will retire. I have had a long journey.”
“Nonsense!” the king said. “Join the party. Have a dance or two with your lovely bride-to-be.”
Marianna reddened still more, hugging her book close to her chest.
“I- I will pass,” Hamish said, equally as embarrassed. “I really need the rest.”
“Ha!” the king scoffed. “Didn’t know I had a recluse for a son. I guess that’s what happens when you let your boy be raised by a woman.”
Anger flared up in Hamish’s eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak.
“You have something to say to me, boy?” the king said, cuffing his hand to the side of Hamish’s face.
Hamish cringed again. “No, sir.”
“Then join the party.”
With that, the king turned and strode down the steps after his queen.
“Are... are you alright?” Marianna asked.
Hamish let his shoulders relax. “Yes. I am fine.”
He turned and started toward the garden doors into the castle.
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
He turned back, flashing a grin. “To be a recluse and talk to the woman who raised me that way. But I am glad that she did. Without her, I would be just like him.”
It didn’t take long for him to find her. She was descending the stairway when he walked through the doors, her composure powerful, yet cold, like an empress from over the sea. When she saw him, she stopped, her hand resting on the banister.
“Hamish,” she said, surprised, yet unusually reserved. Hamish was usually the one person who could make her smile. “You’ve returned.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I have.”
“How are you?”
“I am well,” he said. “Better before I arrived, but well.”
She eyed him as if he were a stranger. “And Lavylli? Did it... did it change you?”
“Change me?” he echoed. “Not as far as I know. I mean, I have gotten into the habit of walking like I have a board tied to my back, but that is not too much of a change.”
The woman smiled softly, whatever fears she entertained set at ease. “Always with the humour,” she said fondly. “Look how you’ve grown. You’re almost a man.”
He smiled. “I feel like a child.”
“Good. Don’t ever let that be taken from you.”
A sly grin spread over his features. “You know, I have not changed enough to dislike a welcome home hug from my Nenda.”
The woman opened her arms. “Come here, my beautiful boy.”
He climbed the stairs, skipping two at a time, and she pulled him into a hug, laughing softly.
The prince smiled. He was home, right where he belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Four
O ur next objective is to ditch Uri.
At least, that is what Bellator seems to be doing. We travelled all night and halfway into this afternoon without any rest. Throughout that time, she started making snide remarks and comments such as, “Hey redhead, when did you say you were leaving again?” and “Ah, that looks like the perfect turn off for you, Uriah.”
At last, Uri is fed up with it.
“Listen!” he shouts. “I said I was goin' to Twylaun, so I ain't turnin’ off anywhere! Like it or not, I'm comin’ with you for a while yet!”
Bellator reins her horse abruptly and turns to him. “I don't think you understand what I am saying,” she growls. “It's time for you to leave! Go to Kenwardton, or Twylaun, or off the face of the earth if you want to! I don't care. Just as long as I never have to look at your smug face again!”
“What ‘bout this?" Uri demands, tugging my hair. “Is it leavin’ too?”
“That doesn’t concern you! Get down off that horse and be on your way!”
He groans. “I can't even keep the horse?”
“Down!”
He remains where he is. “Bellator, I don't got nowhere to go!”
She fakes a surprised look. “Oh! I thought you were going to Twylaun. Don't you remember?”
“Bella, please—”
Her eyes are ablaze. “Do not call me that!”
“You won't shoot me,” he says, more out of hope than actual certainty.
“Oh really?” she snarls. “And what makes you so sure?”
Uri jerks my knife out of my belt and grabs me around the chest, putting the blade to my throat. The cold edge bites into my skin, and I go very still.
“Uri, what are you doing?” There’s a slight panic to her voice as reaches for her quiver.
“Don’t!” He tightens his grip on the knife. “Put it back. You know I’ll kill it if I got to!”
There is a long pause, in which Bellator remains completely motionless.
“What do you want?” she demands.
“I wanna know what you two are up to!” he says. “I know you leavin’ Gaiztoak weren't just to help us. It ain’t like you care ‘bout no one but you!”
“We are on a strictly secret mission. Not only do I not trust you with further knowledge, but I cannot risk telling you out in the open like this.”
“You can’t trust me?” he echoes. “We just fought side by side only yesterday! You trusted me then!”
She huffs. “Uri, your curiosity is going to get you – and more importantly, me – into a lot of trouble. I don't have time for your foolishness!”
“And I s’ppose you need this one for your mission?” he growls, spitting on my face. “Don't you deny it. It ain’t like you to keep him and us alive just ‘cause he asked you to!”
Her eyes flash. “You don't know anything about me, Uriah!”
“I told you not to call me that!" he bellows. "It ain’t my name!”
“Please,” I manage to squeak, “just listen to her. It's for your own good.”
“I don't take no orders from you,” he snaps, drawing the point of the knife to beneath my chin.
Bellator lurches in her saddle. “Uri, enough! Let him go!”
“Ain’t I just as good as him?” he cries. “You don't need him! I can help you with whatever it is.”
“No, you can't!” she snaps. “Let him go now, or I swear that I will kill you!”
“Or,” he says through his teeth, “I can cut his throat and make your life hell instead.”
“You kill him, and you die instantly,” she threatens. “I doubt the odds are much in your favour.”
He seems to think this over. “And if I let ‘im go, you'll kill me anyways!”
“Aren't you wishing you’d listened when I told you to go in the first place,” she says with a smirk.
“No!” I croak from under the pressure of the blade. “Please, Bellator. Let him go. No one has to die.”
The feral glint returns to her eyes. “What if I want someone to die?”
“But we made a deal!”
“We did. We also made a deal that you would do everything I say without question, and so far, you haven’t kept up your end of the bargain!”
Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1) Page 18